Crazy
by Kitten Kisses
Summary: FE7. Still, the woman was crazy. He knew this because she acted crazy. Every time he tried to speak to her, even just…cordially, to ask her a simple question like, "How are you?" she had a negative reaction. She didn't trust him even one whit and that irritated him more than he could say. What had he ever done to earn that?


**Title:** Crazy  
**Characters:** Hector/Farina, Lyn, Serra, Florina, Vaida  
**Genre:** Friendship, Romance  
**Words:** 9,374  
**Notes: **This was intended to be a romance but it came out sounding more like a friendship 'fic, so I decided to continue down that road. This takes place after Hector/Farina A Support, and I know their A leads to marriage in-game but I think they've got a long way to go before either of them would be thinking that far ahead. Her complete lack of trust is pretty sad but hopefully this explains how their A support might have gotten on the track to marriage. This is for Kender, who demanded that I write "the rescue!fic". :)

* * *

Hector approached Farina cautiously. He wasn't normally one to be awake at such a late hour, but something had woken him up and it wasn't something he could take care of on his own, hence his approaching Farina in the pitch black new-moon night.

Her bedroll, if one could even call it that, was situated about as far away from his tent as she could possibly get, which he was certain she'd done on purpose, either to irk him or to avoid him—possibly both. From what he could tell, she was curled onto her side in a very compact sort of pose that didn't look even remotely comfortable, her face half-buried in something she held in her arms. He had a feeling it was her bag, which seemed pitifully thin and probably held more gold than possessions. That was her fault, though; she was the one who refused to buy nicer things for herself despite actually having the money to do so. He didn't know a lot about living costs for people of Farina's rank, but he could bet that she could live well off of what she had for quite some time. Of course, _he_ was the idiot who had let her convince him that she was worth 20,000g.

Well, Farina _wasn't_ worth 20,000g. Not that Hector liked to put a price on anybody, but she _had_ admitted she was only worth 4,000g to him shortly after he'd hired her. That was per battle, but it also depended on what the battle was, according to Matthew. Not that he always trusted _Matthew_'s judgment; the man could be trying to make him look like a jerk just to get his jollies. Still, he'd known from the start that 20,000g was ludicrous. Dorcas had only asked for 2,000g in advance and _he_ had a sick wife to send the money back to.

Farina was lucky they'd needed her help badly enough at the time to justify (and _overlook_) the cost to hire her, though thinking back, she'd probably have been open to negotiation. Considering what little she _was_ actually worth (compared to 20,000g, anyway), he bet he could have talked her down to at least half that amount with very little effort on his part. He regretted that he hadn't had the presence of mind to think of it when she was trying to get him to hire her. After all, how could she have known they'd have that kind of money sitting around? And her face when he'd just handed it over—like an _idiot_—had been shocked, so obviously she'd _expected_ him to try and talk her down.

Whatever.

If anything, Farina was a hard worker, which he could appreciate. Half the people traveling with them were lazy—partially or completely—but she always put all her effort into everything she did, which sometimes had comedic effects (like watching her dig latrines) and the rest of the time made him want to feel his face cracking against a brick wall.

Three weeks before, she'd worked herself into literal exhaustion and only recently had been allowed to fight again. Serra had been (he hoped) quite clear in explaining to her that working oneself to exhaustion meant they were useless on the battlefield: ergo, she wasn't earning the money she'd been paid…in advance. He wasn't sure that Serra's advice had been heeded, but Farina was always so keen to _keep_ her money that he thought there was a small chance of it having some kind of an effect.

Still, the woman was crazy. He knew this because she acted crazy. Every time he tried to speak to her, even just…cordially, to ask her a simple question like, "How are you?" she had a negative reaction. She didn't trust him even one whit and that irritated him more than he could say. What had _he_ ever done to earn that? He hadn't seen her act that way around anybody else—not even Dorcas, who was similar to him in build and choice of weapon. He really couldn't understand her at all. But he knew she wasn't all right in the head. Or something.

"Hey," he said, shaking her shoulder, "wake up." If he sounded annoyed, it was because he _was_. Hector hated being woken up more than just about anything. It was one thing to wake up with the rising sun on his own, but to have something else wake him up was simply unacceptable. And to make things _worse_, Lyn was still recovering from an injury and he didn't feel right waking her to help him, so his last resort was Farina. Joy. When she didn't stir after a moment, he shook her again, harder, and hissed in her ear, "Wake up already!"

He got a reaction out of her that time, but it wasn't what he'd hoped for—which was, y'know, her just waking up.

She screamed, and it wasn't like the scream Serra had let loose when she'd found a bloated rat dead in a barrel of rice last week, either. It was a wretched sort of sound that terrified him to hear because he didn't think he'd ever seen anyone have such a bad reaction to him before.

It was like she thought he was going to—

"How _dare_ you!" she said, but her voice was strained. "Just because—"

He cut her off, already regretting not taking care of his latest problem _himself_. "I woke you up," he said, matter-of-factly, "because I've got a problem I need you to take care of for me."

She just stared at him for a long moment, and he felt partially successful in his midnight mission to get her help with such a delicate matter.

Then she pulled up her knees and rolled away from him, jumping to her feet, holding her bag in front of her the whole time. When he stood also, she backed away from him, a finger pointed accusingly at him. "I'm _earning_ that money," she insisted, "every last gold piece! Just because you paid me in advance doesn't mean you can just—doesn't mean you can just come and _take_ whatever you want!"

Hector looked over to Heath, who was on watch duty, but the other man just shrugged confusedly.

Yeah, she was crazy.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he asked. And then it hit him. His mouth fell open, wordlessly for the first time ever—Lyn wasn't even there to see!—and he shook his head, horrified. "Wait," he said, reaching for her arm, but he stopped at the look on her face. "By the holy staff of Saint Elimine," he muttered, "why would you _ever_ think something so terrible of me?" He realized he probably sounded harsh, but he didn't care. What she'd just accused him of was downright _offensive_. And why him? Why not anyone else?

What, did he just _look_ like the creepy takes-what-he-wants kind of guy? …Not that he wanted anything in particular, least of all from _her_, but still.

"All nobles are the same!" she snapped defensively, chin lifted in the air in a gesture that reminded him of Serra and Lyn.

For some reason, he wondered if her comment included Eliwood, and then he felt doubly offended. Okay, maybe _he_ was capable of appearing physically capable of being a creep—if the way Florina fled from him was any indication—but Eliwood? Eliwood couldn't even _pretend_ to be a creep. He hadn't even been able to play the villain in their games when they'd been children!

"That's rubbish!" he told her.

"No it's not!"

"Why am I even arguing with you over this?" He scowled, annoyed, and remembered why he'd woken up to begin with. "I said I need your help—"

"And _I_ said," she taunted, looking a bit horrified, "that _I'm_ not helping you with your _little_ problem!"

He took a deep breath in through his mouth and let it out of his nose. "Don't be so crass," he said. "It's got nothing to do with me! Florina's been crying over there for twenty minutes now, and I need you to make sure she's okay!"

"What did you do to her?" Farina demanded, her demeanor doing a sharp ninety-degree turn.

"What?!" he asked. "I didn't do anything!"

"Then why is she _crying_?!"

"How should I know? Why do you think I'm the only person here who is out to get you and everyone you care about?"

"Because—"

But either she didn't have an answer to his question, or she was too embarrassed to say it. She clamped her mouth shut and stormed off, while Priscilla peeked her head out of the tent nearby, shaking her head, and Heath gave another confused shrug of his shoulders.

"Am I a monster?" Hector asked.

Faintly, from the healer's tent, behind Priscilla, he heard a muffled, "Yes!"

Growling with annoyance now, he responded with, "Shut up, Lyn, your opinion doesn't count!"

And then he stomped off to bed, ignoring the hushed chatter that was Farina talking to her younger sister. Belatedly, he thought that he should have brought up the fact that _she_ made Florina cry more than _he_ did, but a part of him was glad he hadn't said it. Maybe scaring the crap out of her by waking her up at some forsaken hour of the morning was quite enough.

* * *

"Well, why didn't you wake _me_ up?" Lyn asked him, eyes narrowed from where she sat, one leg propped up on a small pile of books with a blanket covering it. "I mean, she's _my_ best friend! I could have helped!"

"You're all broken and stuff," he answered, feeling uneasy.

"I am _not_ broken!" she said, kicking at him with her good leg. "I could have hobbled over there just fine!"

"No you most certainly could _not_," Serra said haughtily, pushing Lyn's good leg back onto the bedroll she was using to rest. "Now Lord Hector," she continued, looking at him long and hard, "I am but a simple cleric… However…"

Hector rolled his eyes.

"Imagine that it was the other way around, will you? What if you were sleeping at some stupid early hour of the morning, and Farina shook your shoulder and woke you up and said she had a problem she needed your help with?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"Then you realize, a moment later, that it's dark, nobody's awake, there's not a struggle for survival going on… It's just her, leaning over you, telling you she needs your help. I mean, how would _you_ feel about that?"

"Pretty awesome," he said seriously, which earned him a groan from Lyn and an exasperated sigh from Serra. The mental image _was_ kind of attractive.

"By Father Sky," Lyn murmured, her own face flushed in what was probably secondhand embarrassment, "Serra, you asked the question all wrong. Hector, you oaf, judging by the stupid expression on your face…obviously you know what you'd think Farina was after if she woke you up like that, right? So do you see now why she thought _you_ were after the same thing?"

"All I wanted her to do was quiet her loud sister!" he protested. "C'mon, I wasn't being weird!"

Serra rolled her eyes. "Even _you_ can't be _that_ dense!" she said.

"I know what she thought I wanted," he tried. "She didn't think I _wanted_ anything. She thought I was just gonna _take_ it! Now don't tell me that's not crazy!"

Lyn's expression softened a bit, and she shared a glance with Serra before she turned back to Hector. "Now I know you've got a squishy little heart—it kind of reminds me of a frog's belly, really—but have you ever, y'know, _looked_ at yourself?"

Hector's expression showed that he was not impressed.

"Well," she continued, "even if you know you're a goodhearted doofus, you don't really look like one."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, partially offended, though the rest of him was proud, because _good_, that meant he didn't look anything like Eliwood! "Are you saying I'm a monster? _Again_?"

"Well, I could see you frightening small children," Serra suggested helpfully.

Hector scowled. "You're both just as crazy as she is," he said, and moved to stand, but Lyn stopped him with a certain look in her eye that made him feel guilty. "What?" he asked.

"Hey," she tried, speaking gently this time, "you don't know what she's been through, okay? Maybe what seems crazy to you is just her kind of normal. Did you think of that?"

He paused.

"_Obviously_ not," Serra teased.

Lyn shook her head at Serra but smiled at him. "Just think about it," she promised him.

"What's that gotta do with how I _look_?" he asked.

"I guess it could mean a few things," Serra said. "I mean, if a strange man woke me up in my sleep, my first thought would be, hey, can I win against this guy? If the answer was no, it'd be scarier."

"I agree," Lyn said, "not that I'm scared of anything." She glared at Hector when he made a scoffing sort of sound. "She might always be accusing you of lowering her wages—"

"And running herself into the ground to _prove_ herself," he added.

"Right, but she's a mercenary, y'know? I bet she's worked for nobility mostly; from what I know of Ilia thanks to Florina, I have to say they wouldn't bother working for people who couldn't pay much if a job was difficult. I'm sure she's had people lie to her about what they were going to pay."

"But _I_ wouldn't—"

"Well, you know that, and I know that, Lord Hector," Serra said, "but how should she know it? She doesn't know you."

"Well maybe she shouldn't just assume that I'm always out to get her!"

Lyn rolled her eyes. "And _you_ shouldn't assume that everyone's lived a nice safe normal life, either."

"But why's it gotta be _me_?"

Serra raised an eyebrow. "Wow," she said, sounding too cheeky for Hector's taste. "Is there a _reason_ it bothers you that Farina doesn't like you?"

"_Yes_," he answered, almost scornfully, "I didn't do anything to make her not like me!"

Lyn sighed. "You're giving me a headache, and I'm tired, so I'm only going to say this once and then I want you to go away: She probably worked for some nobleman once who, I don't know, was someone she couldn't physically overpower who refused to pay her because of some stupid reason and now she takes everything you do as some kind of scrutiny of her work ethic."

He looked doubtful. "Are you sure something like that happened?" She had seemed scared, or nervous or something when she'd accused him of trying to take whatever he wanted from her because she'd been paid more than the going rate. He wondered if maybe something worse had happened, but of course he'd never ask about it. It wasn't any of his business. But he wasn't the enemy, either!

Lyn sighed. "I said _probably_, not _definitely_," she clarified, shooing him away with a hand. "Or maybe," she told him sarcastically, "she just finds you dreadfully attractive and _that_ scares her."

"It would scare _me_," Serra laughed, and when she tried to hold in her laughter she snorted, loudly.

"_Fine_," he snapped, "I'm leaving!"

And he did, to join Eliwood for a fascinating discussion on the pros and cons of packing up and moving on today versus tomorrow. Just to spite Lyn, he suggested they move out as soon as they could.

Though as they moved on, Hector riding astride his own lazy black gelding, he found himself looking up at the sky. It was a warm day, and he could see a pegasus scouting far ahead of them; he wondered if it was Farina, and then immediately thought of how much she hated him, and how annoying it was, and before he knew it, he was wearing a rather irate expression, and nobody bothered to even try talking to him.

Except Lyn, who passed him in the back of one of Merlinus's wagons, waving at him from her shaded spot.

It just wasn't fair.

Still, Lyn might have had a point about Farina. It would sure explain a lot if something bad had happened to her, even if "bad" entailed something as simple as someone refusing to pay her after a job had finished because she'd gotten it done a day late or something. But even then, if she hadn't gotten paid then how had she gotten food? What about that dumb winged beast of hers? Simple things could become complex.

Or maybe something really terrible had happened, which would explain why she always seemed so…nervous, and over the weirdest things, too.

He felt he preferred the simple explanation, and he refused to let his mind think about anything worse that might have befallen her before she'd found their company. She was safe here—didn't she know that?

Maybe he'd have to just get her alone—er…maybe not alone, maybe with people nearby, so she wouldn't think he was being weird? Women were stupid and this one was definitely five different levels of crazy. He still hated the idea of her disliking him for reasons that had nothing to do with him personally. He'd just have to tell her straight: he wasn't out to get her, going to hurt her, planning to take her money or anything else despicable.

But the scattered members of the campaign group fell under attack before he could find her to say anything.

* * *

Farina had very clear feelings about most everything. She _loved_ sweets (but never got them). She _hated_ men who thought with their man-noodle (ten-year-old Fiora had used the term and Farina, in her attempt to never let her live it down, had been unable to stop using it, herself). She loved money and hated fish (their creepy eyes did too much staring). She loved her sisters and hated Nergal.

She operated on extremes most of the time.

But then there was Hector.

And she was never sure how she felt about him.

He'd never really done anything except pay her, but the way he kept approaching her made her nervous. There were only two reasons an employer would approach hired help, and that was either to tell them they were doing a bad job (which usually entailed taking back the money or not paying them at all), or trying to get a different sort of worth out of them claiming they'd been "paid for" already and they were "owed" it.

He'd managed to frighten her quite badly in the night, waking her up to help him with his "problem", but Farina felt a little bad for accusing him of being dishonorable toward her when really, Florina _had_ been crying and had said it had nothing whatsoever to do with Hector. Since Florina was scared of _all_ men, she supposed Hector's story did add up, but still, why had he gotten so close to her face while she was sleeping? Feeling his breath in her ear had been terrifying.

He was lucky she'd been too confused to break his nose, which would normally be her initial reaction, and he would have deserved it, too! What kind of idiot woke someone up like that if they didn't have ill intentions?

He seemed sincere in his speech most of the time. She vaguely remembered him blathering about wanting to help when she'd given in to exhaustion a few weeks back, but he still kept checking up on her, and it drove her crazy. If he trusted her to do the work, if he didn't want the money back, then why did he keep showing up to make sure she was working?!

Obviously he didn't believe anything she said. Not that she blamed him, after she'd tried, very unsuccessfully, to fib her way out of the mess she'd gotten in by saying she was worth 20,000g to begin with. Well, _he'd_ insulted _her_ by insinuating she was only worth _2,000_—she was a _trained_ mercenary, not a home-grown farmer-for-hire like Dorcas! That was like a ninety percent decrease from the 20,000 he'd paid her!

Though yes, she had admitted that she was only really at a rank paying 4,000g a battle, and yes…usually half was paid in advance and the other after the battle…and finally yes, it depended on the type of battle; usually she did short-term assignments that paid much less. (She didn't admit the last part to him.)

But he'd paid her the money, and she'd promised to earn every last bit; why didn't he trust her to do that? Even a little bit?

Her thoughts were cut off as she noticed, far below and ahead of her, some kind of commotion taking place. Without a second thought, she brought Murphy in for a closer look, and didn't like what she saw.

Merlinus's wagons were arranged in a defensive circle, with Merlinus himself in the center, and their physically weak fighters on guard around it. Even if the attacking group were only after supplies, a lack of supplies too far from civilization _could_ be detrimental; they couldn't afford to lose them.

The terrain wasn't very conducive to fighting, either; on one side of the road was a steep rocky hill—she hesitated to call it a cliff, but with her eyesight, she couldn't tell how sheer the side was, or how far the drop was—and on the other, part of a meadow and a large expanse of trees. Wooded areas were good for some people, and bad for others. People like Wil, who could climb a tree quicker than a set of stairs, were at an advantage. Slow, clunky people like Hector—she snorted—were not at an advantage.

Before she could head down to help fight on foot, there was the loud scream of a wyvern behind her, and her heart leapt in her throat. Murphy responded by whirling around with a frightened scream of his own, though he immediately bared his teeth.

Pegasi were handy because fighting from the sky was an easy strategy. Most small bandits groups didn't have good archers and they certainly didn't have anything that could meet a pegasus in the air.

However, organized crime circles, like the Black Fang—for whatever it had once been had crumbled—could afford to bring in rogues from Bern or Ilia or wherever they pleased.

Farina hated air combat more than anything. She wasn't very good at it, and she didn't think anyone else really was, either. Most wyvern riders simply used their mount to smash straight into those dumb enough to get in their way, and a pegasus was small and lightweight enough that this was possible.

She hoped that her sisters, both riding at the front of the now-scattered group, were not forced into fighting mid-air, and then she readied her spear.

Her best bet was to come from behind, down at an angle to get at the wyvern's wing joint, but she'd already been spotted and though she had the advantage of speed, she definitely didn't have the advantage of strength; one hard push from that wyvern and she and Murphy would be crumpled, bloody smears on the terrain below.

She made the first move, afraid not to, and sent Murphy straight at the wyvern's belly, twisting hard to the rider's left at the last second, which put her at an advantage; she was left-handed and would have a better shot at doing real damage that way.

Midair battles could be compared to jousting but Farina completely disagreed. In the air you had to avoid wings and tails and weapons—sometimes arrows and spells, too. It was a completely three-dimensional battlefield.

Her hit didn't connect, but as she came around behind the wyvern, its tail lashed out, the last of it catching her left side, the scales cutting straight through both clothes and skin, and leaving what would later be a nasty, nasty bruise, but she didn't have time to think about it as her legs tensed to try and stay seated as the force of the impact sent Murphy spinning upside-down.

It didn't take him long to right himself, and he immediately spread his wings when he was clear and took off, away from the group; Farina urged him to turn around again, and he did. Her lightweight spear would probably splinter if she tried to get it into the wyvern itself, and its rider had very few weak spots open that she could hit with any sort of accuracy, but she could probably throw her weapon with some success.

She leveled out and kicked Murphy's side firmly to get him to go faster, and just as she came over the wyvern's head, she threw her carefully aimed weapon at its rider's exposed neck.

It hit, and she veered away, ignoring the confused thrashing of the wyvern as its rider died and dangled half out of the saddle rigging.

She didn't bother to try to retrieve her weapon; she couldn't safely get close enough to pull the weapon back to her, anyway, not in midair. It was better not to risk getting swatted out of the air like a fly with an open palm, anyway.

She breathed a sigh of relief and looked straight ahead, a hand going to her left side to touch her throbbing, still-numb wound. Some wyvern breeds had some kind of paralysis poison in their tails, but the one she'd fought probably didn't. She'd feel it soon enough, then, probably the moment she landed and tried to dismount.

A loud rush of air behind her and to her right made her jump a little, but Murphy didn't look back, and Farina was glad. She didn't have another weapon, and she really wasn't in prime condition to be fighting another armored wyvern rider, anyway. Once glance over her shoulder told her just what she needed to know; the wyvern was gaining.

But Murphy was faster—or ought to be, anyway, despite his smaller size. He'd tire fast, though, and the danger of being stuck in the air was that eventually…a person had to land.

And wyverns were so big that landing at a normal speed, they could easily crush a person. She'd had one half-land on her, once. She'd broken a few things. She still had some of the scars. That mission had been aborted, obviously. It hadn't been a pleasant experience. She'd gained no money, but had then been indebted to her employer for months afterward.

She kicked Murphy hard, urging him to move as quickly as he could. If they didn't gain a lot of ground, she'd never be able to land, and even if she did land, she'd have to get out of the way to avoid being crushed and _then_ she'd probably have to fight the wyvern _and_ its rider on foot.

Maybe she ought to have taken her weapon back, after all.

The longer the chase ensued, the more she began to perspire, the more tired Murphy became, and the more she wished for her spear. After what felt like an eternity, she decided to land. Murphy had been flying hard, and his hindquarters were covered in a thick lather; if she didn't get him landed, get him cared for, he'd probably take ill, and they'd both die if she didn't get them to the ground soon. Almost eagerly, Murphy followed the direction she turned him to and headed to the ground, a small clearing just far enough away from the road that she thought _maybe_ it would be somewhat safe to land there, and not roomy enough for the wyvern behind her to feel comfortable attempting to land—she hoped. Near the wagons would be a better place, because there was backup there, but it was an impossibility—the fight was still going on, there, and she'd be way too easy of a target the closer she got to the ground.

Feeling exhaustion and a bit dizzy from the blood loss, she was only too eager to get to the ground, too. Suddenly, a large thud behind her nearly unseated her, and Murphy whirled around with a startled whinny, hooves lashing out, but the wyvern was plummeting quickly for the ground at the edge of the rocky hill, and Vaida sat tall and proud on the back of her mighty wyvern Umbriel as she studied the bloodied tip of her spear. Umbriel's saddle rigging had "experimental" spikes on the side, which would be terrible on the ground, but in the air gave Vaida the option of ramming her opponents if she could get up alongside them.

Apparently Mark's idea was successful.

"Hey!" Vaida yelled as Farina gave her a weak wave of the hand. "You make good wyvern bait!"

All Farina could do was flash her something of a smile in return before she beat a hasty retreat to the ground. She was glad that Vaida had come to her aid; never before had she thought she'd be so happy to see the woman. But Umbriel was one of the biggest wyverns she'd ever seen, and that beast could probably kill Murphy by just sneezing on him. Smaller wyverns probably looked like tasty little morsels to him.

As she neared her designated clearing, she made to land, circling it once or twice while Murphy shook his head impatiently, just to try and make certain that the area was safe to land in. However, as she came closer, she noticed something odd about another, smaller clearing closer to the road and the fighting. There were bodies there.

But one of them looked…familiar.

She knew immediately who it was—or who it looked like, anyway—and changed her course at the last minute, which made Murphy irate and the pesky pegasus tried to reach his neck back to snap his teeth at her in retaliation for making him wait longer to rest.

She landed a safe distance away and dismounted, her muscles aching. She'd known she'd feel the torn skin at her side but she hadn't expected the pain in her ribs, too; maybe she'd taken a bit of a hit there, too, from the tail, but hadn't noticed in the heat of the moment. Not that it mattered.

Leading Murphy by his bridle, since he needed a walk to calm him anyway, she headed quickly for the facedown figure, which she assumed to be Lord Hector of Ostia. She hadn't really thought he could be downed in battle, but his cape was torn and singed, there was blood in his hair that looked like it ran out into the grass, and most frighteningly, he wasn't moving.

When she was close enough, she knelt next to him, pressing her fingers against his neck to feel for a pulse, which she did find, though it wasn't especially strong, and for some reason she'd always imagined it would be, because he was always so loud and suddenly, now, so quiet. It was disconcerting and she wasn't even sure why it was that she cared what happened to him.

It would be useful to have connections to him, of course, and he was very handsome, but still…he didn't trust her, so she didn't trust him.

It still hurt when she tried to wake him up by saying his name, and he didn't respond right away. A moment passed, and she tried again, and again. Finally he stirred, and she noticed that he was sweating, and on this hot, hazy day, the sun was shining right on him; he was probably sick from the heat as well as any wounds he'd sustained.

He tried to turn to see who was calling him, and cringed, hand going to his stomach.

She twisted herself a bit, ignoring how her side protested it, just so he could see that she wasn't the enemy. "Hey, Lord Hector," she said. "What happened?"

He looked dazed—maybe even a bit confused. "I'm not trying to take the money back," he told her, sounding quite serious.

She sat there, openmouthed, and pushed back his hair. "I know," she said, suddenly feeling a little more worried for him. At least he was responsive. At least he'd opened his eyes, even if they were tired. At least he'd spoken, even if his voice was cracked and dry; he was probably dehydrated. "What happened to you?"

Something changed in his expression and he pushed himself up, turning over with a bit of a groan so that he was sitting up and facing her. "I got them first," he said, defensively, eyes darting over to the other bodies in the clearing, the faces of the corpses belonging to no one she recognized.

She looked at the grass and saw it looked pretty bad, and back to him, where his shirt was soaked in blood; it even ran down the front of his pants. "I think they got you, too, though," she told him lightly. "You've lost a lot of blood."

"I'm fine," he tried to say, but she rolled her eyes.

"No you're not." She tried to remember how many people were fighting out on the road, but she couldn't. There had been quite a few, and those not on their side would probably retreat back through this same area to get to wherever it was they'd come from. Hector would be easy prey in his condition, and she could get away on Murphy, but she'd never do that to anyone if she could help it, even if they told her to.

Besides, she wasn't stupid; any group so full of men would want a woman around badly enough that there was a good chance they wouldn't kill her; they'd definitely kill Hector, though.

A bit of a clamor sounded from her left—and it didn't sound friendly. The road was to her left; it could get ugly in minutes, and she didn't even have a weapon.

"I am," he tried to argue, but he sounded less and less like it the longer he sat up, and she realized that his wound was still seeping.

Scared to look but even more frightened to avoid looking, she pulled the front of his shirt out of his breeches and made a pathetic little sound. "Hector," she breathed, forgetting, for just a moment, that he was way above her station in life, "you're going to die if you don't get help soon."

He didn't say anything for a long moment, but finally, he sighed, and spoke, his voice oddly quiet, "Yeah."

She snapped out of the half-daze she found herself in and unclasped his cape. "Well the only way we're gonna get out of here before those jackasses," she pushed her thumb over her shoulder toward the road, "show up, and before you keel over from blood loss, is to use Murphy."

It was too bad that Murphy wasn't keen on Hector, that Hector wasn't keen on Murphy, and that Hector weighed a lot. She couldn't even guess at his weight—easily 230lbs and who knew what the real estimate was when he was in armor.

As quickly as possible, she unbuckled his armor, tossing each piece carelessly to the ground; hers didn't weigh much, but Murphy would be struggling and the less weight there was, the better, so she removed hers and threw it down also. "We'll come back for everything later," she promised him, eyes landing on his beloved axe. She really wanted to take it with them, if only because it seemed to mean something to him, but it was just too heavy.

"Okay," she said, adrenaline pumping so hard through her veins that she almost felt like she could successfully lift him into the saddle herself if she had to. Deep down, she knew it would be impossible, though. Standing, she ordered Murphy, with her palm pointed downward and a flick of her wrist, to sink to his front knees. "Up, up," she ordered Hector, her voice a bit frantic, and Hector either understood her or was eager enough to live that he held onto her as he stumbled to his feet, almost knocking her to the ground in the process.

She needed him to sit in front of her; it would be easier for her if _she_ sat in front, but if he fainted, he'd fall, so she needed to be behind him to hold him up.

"I know you don't like Murphy," she said, helping him get his leg over her pegasus's neck, "but he won't throw you." She ordered Murphy back to all four hooves before she swung into the saddle behind him and took the reins. He was just barely conscious and she was afraid to wrap her arms around him; touching his stomach would probably do damage to him that he didn't need, or couldn't survive, especially when Murphy got up into the air.

"Hey," she said, squeezing his shoulder, "try to stay awake."

He didn't answer, and he didn't obey, sagging back against her so heavily she knew it was going to be awful trying to get back to camp.

She kicked Murphy hard as the clamoring got closer, and when the animal hesitated, she kicked him again, harder, her hand slapping his hindquarters. With a startled whinny and the understanding that _not_ moving would mean death, he lurched into the air under the unevenly distributed weight and took to the skies.

* * *

Hours later, when the foe had been routed and the army had moved forward with the injured in the back of their supply wagons while those capable of healing could help, Farina wondered how they'd made it.

Her side ached and she was exhausted, but she couldn't sleep. She spent most of the evening with a wad of linen cloth pressed against her side, staring at nothing. Hector was with Serra at the back of the group. Most people that were injured were like her—or better off. Not life-or-death injuries, not like Hector's.

Lyn had worried at the front of the same wagon that Farina rode in. Farina hadn't wanted to ride, but when she'd just stopped in the road for no real reason at all, Sain had scooped her up and sat her in the back.

"You brought him back, right?" Lyn asked her, wriggling in to sit with her healing leg stretched straight in front of her. "On your pegasus?"

It took her a moment to register that anyone was talking to her, and she looked over the bag of beans she was resting her head against to nod, slowly. "Yeah," she said. "On Murphy."

Murphy had only barely been able to handle the weight. She didn't weigh a lot on her own, but Hector's weight alone was more than double hers.

"I'm surprised you made it."

"I don't know how we did," Farina said. "Murphy could barely stay above the treeline."

Lyn shook her head and sighed, "How was he? I just heard it was bad."

Farina's eyes closed. She was so tired—she wanted nothing more to sleep but it just refused to come. "It was horrible," she admitted. "One of those injuries that you know…if it's not treated in ten minutes…they'll die." She took a tired breath. "I didn't want to move him but…it wasn't safe there. Hope I didn't kill him with that decision."

Lyn patted her arm. "He'll be fine," she said, but neither of them _really_ knew. Injuries were fickle and Farina had seen Hector's herself. He'd hit his head, too. The way he'd just fallen back against her in a dead faint had been scary. She wondered if he'd felt the same thing when she'd collapsed right in front of him several weeks before. At least she hadn't been bleeding.

But even she wasn't so naïve that she thought a person had to be bleeding to die. No, poison and internal injuries and illness could take a person easily enough.

"I don't even know why I care," she admitted in a low, confused murmur. She'd talked to him before, had had some pleasant discussions with him, but for the most part, he'd just seemed to be checking up on her to make sure she was doing the work he was paying her to do. He wasn't even a _friend_, really.

"'Cause even though he _looks_ like a brute, it's pretty easy to see he's a good guy." Lyn paused a moment. "Don't ever tell him I said that. Everyone knows it, though."

Farina laughed—she couldn't help herself. She didn't know why she was laughing. But she laughed and laughed and then cried, because it was _true_.

She never trusted anyone, ever, and maybe all those times he'd tried to talk to her he'd been trying to get to know her because he liked to talk to people, liked to know the people who worked with him. He wanted people to like him, to trust him, and it was suddenly obvious to her that he was upset that she kept him at arm's length for what to him appeared to be no reason whatsoever.

But she was the opposite. She hated people to know anything about her because she didn't like what she saw there, didn't think anyone _really_ wanted to be her friend, because people were greedy and liked two things, and those were money and sex. People would squabble and fight and kill over both of those things, and she'd been thoroughly turned off from sex for years, but money—money could be held, touched, used. Money could make a person happy. She knew it could.

Money meant you didn't have to live without. You wouldn't have to live without food or a house or a bed or blankets or peace of mind. She wouldn't mind being rich but she really just wanted, more than anything, to be comfortable.

To not have to worry about anything ever again.

She couldn't tell people that, though. They'd laugh. People like Lord Hector would laugh because they had no idea what it was like to go without, and they were taught that the poor stayed poor because they were lazy. Farina hated that stereotype more than anything, because she'd worked hard her entire young life and nothing had ever come of it, nothing at all, except the ability to project a fake confidence when she felt nothing but anxiety, and the power to push people away and keep them there.

Because nobody could be trusted. Everyone wanted something—from others, for themselves, out of life.

But maybe she'd been wrong. Maybe…there were people who were in Hector's position in life…who weren't all bad. Nice, even. Considerate. She tried to remember his expression when he helped her up after she'd fainted right in the middle of his sentence. He'd been concerned. Maybe it was real concern, too. After she'd nearly been crushed by that wyvern years ago, all she'd heard through the weeks of the healing process was how much she'd owe and what a bother she was and how generous and kind he was being for helping her out and not leaving her out there to die.

Hector had only asked her if she was all right. He'd never _actually_ mentioned the money, even if she'd thought he was keeping an eye on her to make sure she was earning it. Maybe he didn't even care about it.

If Lyn thought she was crazy…she said nothing, just patted her arm and then her hair and probably thought that she understood where Florina got her crybaby tendencies. As soon as the wagons stopped so that they could make camp in a safe place, Farina fell asleep, the bag of beans cushioning her head, a sack of turnips pressing the linen cloth into her side.

* * *

Days later, and it was clear that Hector would be fine if he just stayed still for a few weeks and let the healing process complete. Farina was too much of a coward to go to see him despite her relief.

She had gone with Fiora and Heath to collect Hector's weapon and their armor, which was miraculously still there, but she hadn't delivered anything to him personally, opting to let someone else do it.

After a week had passed, Florina finally approached her, poking her straight in the left side. "Hey, Farina," she said.

Farina cringed and swatted her sister's hand away from her still-bruised and sore side. Serra had helped close it up but it would take a while to finish healing on its own. "What is it?" she asked, focusing on brushing Murphy, who had been overfed treats from several members of their group for his obedience and role in helping to save Hector's life.

"Are you going to see L-Lord Hector or what?"

The question startled her, and she dropped her currycomb. "Huh?"

"I said, are you going to—"

"Never mind," she said, bending over to pick it up with a sigh. "I heard you."

"Well are you?"

"What?"

Florina stomped her foot impatiently, "Going to see Lord Hector!" she said forcefully. "R-Really, Farina! He asked for you days ago!"

She wanted to protest knowing this, and she wanted to explain why she hadn't gone—because she was embarrassed at having treated him so suspiciously—but instead she found herself saying, "Fine, I'll go. Right now."

And she did, dropping the currycomb back to the ground and giving Florina a defiant look before she moved in the direction of the healer's tent.

It took her ten more minutes to talk herself into going _inside_ the tent, but once she did she felt a little better. It was a pretty nice day, not oppressively hot, anyway, and the tent had the sides partially open to allow a little airflow and sunshine through, which was nice. With the sides closed it got dark and kind of depressing inside.

It didn't take her long to find Lord Hector. He was looking four shades of frustrated while he read a map.

"Hey," was all she could think to say, and it sounded stupid.

* * *

Hector was bored, and that was putting things nicely. He never took ill, but being bedridden from an injury was almost as degrading. There was nothing to do and usually nobody to talk to unless some fool took pity on him and came to visit.

It felt good to be alive, though, that much he _could_ admit. And the person who'd saved his hide had been Farina, of all people.

Farina! He'd thought for sure that she might not mind leaving him to rot, but she did seem to have some measure of loyalty about her. Or maybe she'd saved him 'cause he'd paid her so much money and she felt she had to. He supposed it could have just been because he was there, dying, and she had a heart.

His vague recollection of her trying to help him had just confused him when he'd first woken up, and he'd asked, over and over, "Farina? Farina? Where is she? She was here—I saw her. I swear I saw her. Was it her?"

He'd been too tired and out of it to really understand that she had brought him back to camp, because people were supposed to stick around after they saved your life, right? They were supposed to come to visit you, and ask you how you felt, and all those other dumb things. Like Lyn did for Kent a few months back; she'd visited him until the man's face reddened and he breathed a great sigh of relief when he'd finally convinced her to go.

Though Hector was convinced that Kent really did enjoy the attention. Secretly. Deep down. Mostly because it was so horribly boring without anyone around to talk to, or to argue with, or to just _watch_. Occasionally he'd caught a glimpse of someone walking by and he'd made a game out of trying to identify people by their feet, but it got boring really fast. Mostly because he couldn't prove if he'd guessed right or wrong.

Farina's voice startled him, and he looked up to see her looking uneasy. He couldn't help but grin at her, though. Finally, someone to talk to! Even if she was a little crazy! Was it okay to call someone crazy if they saved your life? Probably not.

"I, uhm…" she started to say, but he cut her off.

"It's about time you showed up, Farina. I've been waiting a damn week to say this, and I hate waiting, so now I'm just gonna say it once: I owe you my life. Thanks." It hadn't been easy to say, but it was true, and Hector wasn't so obnoxious that he wouldn't give credit where it was due.

"You're welcome, but—"

"Now look here," he said before he could stop himself. He'd had time to stew over the crap that had happened…whenever that was, before the ambush, where she'd accused him of all kinds of stuff, and he'd thought a lot about what Lyn had said, too. "I'm not going to take back the money I paid you. I'm not creeping around trying to catch you slacking off, and I'm _not_ the kind of guy who would force himself on a woman just 'cause I've got money and a title. Got it?"

"I know," she said, sounding oddly humble. "I wanted to, uhm…apologize for that."

It was weird seeing Farina blush. She had two extremes: angry and nervous, and he didn't think he'd ever seen her _embarrassed_ before. It was kind of cute. Attractive, even…though maybe that was because she had actual color in her face instead of looking wan and tired.

"Nah," he said, dismissing her apology with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry about it. I shouldn't have woken you up like that, anyway. I wasn't thinking." The more he'd thought about it, the more he understood why she'd freaked out on him.

"Yeah, but the _other_ stuff," she tried, and he shook his head.

"You can't help how you feel." He shifted a little so that he could get a better look at her. "Hey," he said, "when you landed right next to me in the middle of that battle with your dumb pegasus flapping its wings, I thought _damn, this woman's got balls_, er…you know." He hadn't meant to actually say what he'd really been thinking. Oh well. Farina laughed at his choice of words, though, so he kept going, "Confidence is attractive."

She blushed deeper and he grinned. He wasn't going to clarify whether or not he meant that it was attractive in people in general or that it was something that attracted him to certain women. (The answer was both.)

"What kind of girl just marches up to a military commander and demands to be hired for an absurd amount of cash? So I thought I'd, you know, try to get to know you a little. Obviously that was a bad idea."

"It's not _your_ fault," she tried to say, but he cut her off again.

He'd never felt so chatty in his whole damn life, and he was glad Matthew and Serra and _Lyn_ weren't around to see him fumble his way to a friendship with some scrawny mercenary lady. "I figure something happened once or twice or a few times," he said. "You don't have to tell me about it. That's your business, not mine. I just don't want you thinking all kinds of horrid things about me. I mean, give me a chance to prove I'm an okay guy before you make a choice."

She smiled and relaxed a little, probably relieved that she didn't have to tell him anything. "Okay," she agreed.

"Good. And I order you to speak freely around me. Everyone else does. I prefer it."

"All right."

…Then there was awkward silence. Hector _hated_ awkward silence. Now that he'd spilled his guts about everything, he wondered why he even cared what Farina thought of him. He supposed it was just annoying that someone would judge him without getting to know him…but maybe there was more to it than that.

"Everyone's been spoiling Murphy in your honor," she told him, apparently as bothered by the silence as he was.

"He's gonna get fat," he told her. "And then he won't be able to fly you anywhere."

She rolled her eyes. "If he managed to carry your heavy ass, _surely_ he won't have any trouble with _me_ even if he gains a few pounds."

Hector grinned. Yeah, they'd get along just great.

"My ass," he said, imitating her tone, "isn't the part of me that weighs so much!" He lifted one of his arms and flexed it, hard. "Muscle weighs more than fat, woman."

She scoffed but her face reddened anyway, which amused him greatly. "Put that away," she told him, "you might hurt someone's eyes."

"Is that why you're blushing?"

"I am _not_ blushing!"

"Yes you are! Look, your face is all red. And getting redder!"

"Because you keep drawing attention to it!" She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin. "Didn't you almost die or something?" she asked.

"Yeah," he answered, "but I didn't."

"Hey, if you wanna thank me, money talks."

"I already _paid_ you plenty."

"But I think a nobleman's life is worth a lot."

He rolled his eyes, "Fine, you earned the 20,000 gold. But anything else will have to be paid _after_ everything is done. I think 20,000 in advance is ridiculous, though."

"You should pay Karla something, too. And Dorcas deserves a bit of a bonus. You know, he helped Mark build that contraption for Vaida's saddle rigging, and that's what saved my life so that I could save yours. It's only fair."

"We do have limited funds, you know. I can't just waltz out there tossing gold coins at everyone."

"Well then Karla, at least. She said you're not paying her anything!"

"She said she didn't _want_ paid."

"Well she changed her mind."

"Because you brainwashed her!"

She scoffed. "She understands now what money can be used for! You would withhold a little extra money from a woman like Karla, who works hard to assist us in battle? A little money would at least let her buy some personal things, like new shoes, which she definitely needs!"

"Fine, fine," he said. "I'll talk to her." Farina was exhausting. Now that he'd convinced her (he hoped) that he wasn't out to ruin her life, she talked a lot. She was also really obnoxious. She was like a small, louder Lyn.

"Good," she said, and then, "okay, I'm leaving."

"Wait." He held up a hand when she was almost gone, relieved when she turned around. "You do believe me when I say I'm not out to hurt you, right?"

"Yeah," she answered after a moment, her voice a bit softer. "You're all right, Lord Hector."

When she left, he felt immediate disappoint settle over him. The moment she walked away, he had twenty questions to ask her. Not that he would be like Eliwood, who'd sat under trees holding Ninian close, crooning weird things in her ear. Nah, Hector was not as weird as Eliwood. Frankly, the idea kind of creeped him out. He'd rather have a straight discussion with someone—it was easier…and less suspicious looking, besides.

Well, at least he'd succeeded in convincing Farina that he wasn't a monster. Maybe she'd pass the message on to Florina so that he could walk around at night without hearing her startled shrieks whenever she saw him rounding a corner around the campsite.

Farina was still crazy, though. She'd been crazy enough to demand 20,000 gold for her services, and then she'd been crazy enough to actually earn it.

It was okay to say it, he decided, even if she'd saved his life, so long as there was a little bit of affection behind it.

He decided to file all of his questions away for later. He knew she'd be back.


End file.
